


The Red/Blue Choice

by AzzyBlue



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Family Feels, Gen, Major Illness, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 15:04:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16558010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzzyBlue/pseuds/AzzyBlue
Summary: Logically, the sanders sides have never been sick… until now. As they search for a cure, things get heated between the famILY and medicine has never tasted more bitter.





	1. Chapter 1

He collapsed onto the sofa and groaned, furiously rubbing at his eyes.  
“Aren’t you afraid of smudging those racoon markings off your face?” Roman asked in a smug tone.  
“You should talk, I think Hermione want’s her bags back.” Virgil shot back smoothly. He was right though, usually the anxious side would refrain from such actions on the account of his eyeshadow but since they had all been working overtime he might as well just walk around without it. The prince gave an offended scoff and rubbed under his eyes as if hoping he could erase such a blemish on his beauty.

“I appreciate the banter but if you could both just…” Logan was in the kitchen, cradling an empty mug in one hand as he flapped the other, trying to batter away the exhaustion that was plaguing them all. The coffee machine was whirring and sputtering pitifully as the two dishevelled figments looked over, grumbled something and returned to staring at inanimate objects as if losing focus would mean instant defeat to sleep. They didn’t want to challenge him though, he had been working exceptionally hard since the start of the month; planning schedules for projects, organising the team, structuring Roman’s ever cascading ideas into something worth presenting… all of which had reduced Logic to a dishevelled mop of hair and an uncharacteristically loose tie. At that moment one of the doors opened along the hallway, catching two of the three’s attention. Patton stumbled out of his room wearing wrinkled sky-blue pyjamas with pink bunnies on, a fleece blanket was half-clutched in one hand and draped over his shoulder. With the elegance of a three-legged rhino, he stumbled towards the group and yawned a greeting.

“Pat, you should be in bed.” Virgil warned, squinting at the golden light that poured from his friend’s room until the door slammed shut on its own.  
“For once I agree with J-Downer here. Why, I would jump at the chance to catch up on my beauty sleep.” Roman nodded towards him.  
“But guuuuuuys…” He whined, shuffling. “I feel bad that you’re… all working so hard and I’m just having a… pat-nap.” Before they could protest any further, the usually lively side slumped over to the sofa and practically collapsed onto the sofa next to Roman.  
“Thomas would only feel more tired if you stayed awake dear, it’s for the best you make like Aurora and rest.” He explained softly, as if afraid of startling a small animal. “Besides, everything here is practically perfect in every way, right Logan?” He called over his shoulder.  
The mentioned side had just finished pouring his drink and was swirling the jet-black liquid with a look of distaste plastered across his fatigued expression. He squinted at the group for a second before saying “Patton? When did you get up? You should go back to bed, tired is technically a feeling after all…”  
“That’s not worrying.” Virgil commented, giving him a single finger-gun to emphasise his point.  
The spectacled side looked behind him. “What is?”  
“Okay, no. Bed time.” He heaved himself reluctantly off the sofa and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Roman, go do your thing.” His purple fringe bobbed as he nodded towards the target with raised eyebrows. He then held out a hand to Patton who looked up at him with a sleepy smile “Patton, how about some cuddle time?” He could never say no to that. However, he hadn’t anticipated what happened next. The curly haired figment took his hand and yanked him down with a surprising amount of force; next thing he knew, he was draped in a warm blanket with Patton entangling him like a fly trap. “This isn’t what I meant.” Virgil groaned only to have his friend nuzzle into him even further, chuckling in an adorably wistful manner.

Meanwhile Roman had vacated the sofa and strode across the living room. A sudden yelp caught Virge’s attention and caused Morality to stir.  
“Put me down at once, Creativity!” Logan demanded as he battered at the other with his free hand. Roman had him expertly hoisted over his shoulder, his face turned away and flashing a dazzling smile at his compadres as his captor wriggled and half-heartedly kicked his legs.  
“You heard the dark over-dramatic lord! We all need some rest.” He replied in a less than sympathetic tone. “Anyway, aren’t you the one who says we should have optical rest for us to do… stuff.”  
“It’s optimal rest for productivity.” He mumbled in defeat. How could he argue against his own words? “You made me spill my coffee.” He muttered, finally going limp in the prince’s arms.  
He gently patted his back and rolled his eyes. “I’m terribly sorry Merriam Nerdsta, I’ll make you a new one in the morning.” Virgil felt a smirk creep onto his face at the nickname, storing it away for later use. It had been a long month for them all, they deserved the rest.

 

* * *

 

A few weeks later most of group had recovered; Patton was back to his bubbly energetic self, practically bouncing around the kitchen as he prepared all sorts of pastries and deserts as if they were going out of style. He hummed along merrily to Roman’s incessant singing as the princely side sat upon one of the counters and watched him work. Logan was in his usual spot on the sofa, feet flat against the floor, with perfect posture as he poured over one of his many books for the millionth time. He didn’t seem concerned with the musical racket the two were making and almost looked content about the situation; Virgil on the other hand, had retreated to his room for some peace and quiet. He loved his family, he really did, but sometimes their boundless energy and boisterous antics were just too much for him, he simply had to seek out silence to replenish whatever little energy he could. The only issue now was the scent of Patton’s baking. The alluring odour crept up the stairs, weaving its way around the bannister before it seeped under the cracks of the door and teased his senses. He could see the golden dough rising in his mind as a ghostly sweet taste trickled down his tongue. Made with my signature ingredient! The goth smiled at his chirpy friend’s words, of course it was with love.

Blowing out a raspberry of defeat, Virge stood and strode his way across the bedroom. He hadn’t eaten in a while, so he supposed it would be alright if he grabbed a light snack; besides, if he had waited Patton would have just come barging into his room to politely demand him to try one of his delectable dishes. He fondly shook his head at the thought as he trudged down the stairs. Out of nowhere he gave a loud sneeze which made him pause at the very last step. Once he had recovered from the startling experience he looked around the room to see that all eyes were on him.  
“Bless you!” Patton called in a sing-song voice as if automatic.  
“Well, I prefer someone else to do the trumpeting when I make a grand entrance but whatever works for you, dreary.” Roman beamed at his own excessive flare only to have a tea towel playfully tossed in his face.  
“Thanks guys.” The dark side muttered, grimacing at all the sudden attention. Finally, his eyes fell on Logan, whose face was knitted together as he intently stared at him. He knew that look, it was the face he pulled every time an experiment didn’t go according to plan (for he’d never say he was wrong) or when someone used a word incorrectly. “Erm… Can I have my face back?”  
The inquisitive side’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance or perhaps, curiosity? “You just sneezed.”  
“Very perceptive sherlock.” He rolled his eyes, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he stuffed his hands into his hoodie’s pockets. He hated the way his skin crawled as the blue eyes followed him over to the kitchen.  
“Virgil, we aren’t human.” He stated plainly. “We don’t need to sneeze.”  
“Maybe he was chewing gum?” Patton asked, his head tucked into the oven as he pulled out a fresh batch of homemade cinnamon rolls.  
“What does that-“  
“Well, he’d have to give it a chew.” The fatherly side cut Roman off, radiating at his own wit. Logan had to close his eyes to process this for a second as the others groaned, a painful smile etched across their faces.  
“Patton. Just…” He trailed off, pushing his glasses up his nose as he tried to remain calm. “What I’m saying is, unless you did that intentionally you’d have no reason to sneeze Anxiety.”

A silence fell on them as they stared at each other. He supposed he was right. He had no memories of any of them sneezing before. Then again, who saves memories of every trivial bodily function that occurred to them? Granted they didn’t technically have bodies either, surely somethings would just be engrained so deeply within primal instinct it would have bled into their characteristics too? No big deal. But it was important that it had been Logan who had seized on the matter, he was not one to ignore potentially useful, or dangerous, details. Thus, his statement still stood… So why had he just done so? He hadn’t even felt it coming until it happened so why…  
“Oh come now!” Roman slid from his perch and gave Virgil a hearty pat on the back that made him jolt forward and interrupted his thoughts. “It was just a little sneeze! Virgil may be as beautiful as a damsel in distress, but he most certainly isn’t one.” He gave a little chuckle as he moved towards Patton, reaching out for a perfectly glazed roll just to have his hand swatted away like a common fly. He pouted playfully as the cardigan clad young man snickered at the expression he pulled.  
The other gave a thoughtful hum as he stared at the trio. “Perhaps that is possible.”  
“Who knows? Maybe with more development the more human we become!”  
Logan scoffed at Roman’s idea, it certainly wasn’t the first time nor would it be the last. “What development?”  
“Now, now” The assertive fatherly tone cut in. “We’ve just had a very hard month of work, he’s made some decent progress so let’s give Thomas some credit, okay kiddos?” Logic gave a slight huff as he turned away from the group and readjusted his tie. Scanning for where he had left off, he muttered something before continuing on in silence. “Come on Lo. Roll on over here and give one of these a try!”


	2. Chapter 2

His eyes cracked open slightly. Sunlight bled through the dark curtains and entangled itself in the webs around the room, giving the usually dreary atmosphere a slight hum of content. Virgil dragged his dull grey eyes over to the clock only to see its hands spinning rapidly in different directions. With a gentle huff of annoyance, he lifted his arm and pointed over to it, freezing the hands in place to reveal the truth. It was one o’clock. Great. He groaned as his body began to shift of its own accord, knowing full well that Logan would have a lecture prepared for him about the benefits of waking up at seven AM or whatever ungodly hour the automaton rose. Half-swinging, half-flopping his legs over the side of the bed, he didn’t bother straightening out the covers as he pulled off his old hoodie and replaced it with his purple and black one.

He rubbed his face against the soft comforting fabric and breathed in the scent of detergent which dragged forth the memories of Patton beaming at him. It had taken the side weeks, possibly months, to convince him to let him wash his clothes. Usually he would have done it himself but sometimes it took all his energy just to get out of bed, never mind change or take care of laundry. He chuckled at the recollection of his protests, that now seemed obviously ridiculous, and at his own surprise when his clothes came back softer than down feather and smelling sweeter than the cheery side’s baking. A few holes had been stitched fondly back together and a note had been tucked neatly into its pocket; “ _I know you’ve been having a hard time kiddo, but I want you to know if you need anything don’t be afraid to ask. We’ll help patch things up!_ ” Patton had signed his crooked handwriting with an equally wavering heart, yet he didn’t care. To Virgil it may as well have been priceless artwork as it was now pinned fondly to the wall beside his bed. He’d die of embarrassment if the others ever saw it, yet he refused to take it down for it served its purpose as a reminder, a calling card for better days to come when things were especially… dark.

He gave the note a small smile, as if bidding it adieu, before he picked his way through his mess of a bedroom and swung open the door. He was half expecting Logan to be waiting for him, arms crossed with one eyebrow raised as he demanded to know what time it was, even though he already knew. He breathed a sigh of relief as he trudged downstairs, rubbing his eyes as he adjusted to his much brighter surroundings. Virge was used to being dazzled by light every time he left his room, on this occasion however, the stinging in his eyes seemed especially bitter and he lamented his choice of leaving his shady abode. In the past he could’ve stay in his room for days without interruption, that was until the others had accepted him and things began changing drastically. They practically ambushed him at one point to confess their concerns for his… habits. The sides may not need to eat but it did “increase their moral” as Logic had put it so eloquently and Patton had insisted on checking in on his “special little guy”. Even Roman wanted a partner to watch movies with from time to time… although, Virgil suspected he was just lonely when the other two weren’t around; he didn’t mind though, he supposed the prince was trying. Now, he was absolute about going downstairs at least once every day just to show the others that he was doing fine.

Thinking back to the event that spurred on his daily trips to the living room, Virgil barely noticed Roman sat on the sofa casually pouring over some sort of magazine. Normally he would scoff at the subject of the issue and tease the creative side for his shallow interests, but his legs had other plans. He marched into the kitchen and grabbed a mug from the drying rack, not really checking if it was clean or not before pushing it under the tap and blasting it full of water. Once it finally reached his lips, he almost purred in pleasure as the cool liquid trickled down his throat. Anxiety was nearly shocked at how good it felt yet refused to stop, tipping the water further into his mouth so that his parched lips glistened at the overflow. The coolness seemed to spread to his chest and then quickly seeped into his veins, relaxing the muscles as he gulped at it greedily. He only stopped for breath once the cup was empty, reluctantly wrenching it away from himself to gasp for air.  
“I do tend to have that affect on people.” Roman mused. He could practically feel the other smirking from where he sat, flipping the pages loudly for dramatic effect.  
“What, you make them want to drown themselves?” Virgil shot back with a breathy laugh. As the prince gave an offended scoff, the hoodie clad young man refilled his mug and turned to face him.  
“Well someone woke up on the wrong side of the coffin.”  
“Please, everyone knows caskets are much more comfortable.” He replied nonchalantly, sipping at his drink.  
“No, I don’t think they do?” The other mused, placing the magazine on his lap as he looked over to him. “I suppose I shouldn’t ask either… Tell me, are you wearing new makeup?”  
“Er… no?” Virgil raised an eyebrow, a little caught off guard at the question. “Why?”  
“Nothing you just seem… different.” Roman shrugged, picking up his article and scouring the pages for where he left off. “Though if you ever want to try real makeup I’d be more than happy to oblige.”  
“You come near with rouge ever again and I’ll bite you.” He muttered as he gave his friend a hard glare.  
“It worked wonders for your complexion!”

Before either of them could say anymore Logan rose silently through the floor in a ghost like fashion. He gave a little bounce once his feet connected with the carpet and used his free hand to smoothen back his chocolate brown hair, despite it being impeccably neat as always. Under the other arm was a set of heavy looking leather-bound books that had undoubtedly been well cared for. “Here, I believe these will be more substantial.” He indicated to the books as he handed them off to Roman, who dropped his head back with a loud exaggerated groan.  
“But I don’t want to read these… these… moth-eaten relics! They’re so dreary… and uninspired.” He plucked one of the copies from the pile and scanned the title. “The History of Common Sense?”  
Logan scowled slightly, snatching the book from his grip as he muttered in a deadly tone “I can assure you that my books are not moth-eaten.”  
“Of course not my dearest Wol, but I don’t see why I need to reread American history when we no longer study it!” He retorted with a warm smile that seemed to only irritate the other further.  
“Because we should pay homage to our ancestors and it has good educational value… lord knows you could use some more common sense.”  
“Don’t let Pat here you make that pun.” Virgil quipped, holding his mug up to the spectacled side with a nod.  
“He’s not around is he?” Logan asked with what could have been the faintest trace of fear as he glanced around the room.  
“Not that I know of, but it wouldn’t surprise me if his pun senses were tingling.” He shrugged in response, taking a long sip of water that loosened yet another sigh from his throat. There was a slight pause as Logic scanned him, his eyebrows furrowed as his lips seemed to freeze over into a pressed musing line.  
Just before it was starting to get uncomfortable he asked “Are you wearing new makeup?”  
“There must be an echo in here, for I asked the same thing!” Roman added with a look of confusion, wrinkling his magazine slightly as he shifted to face the two fully. “He does seem different, no?”  
Virgil gave a huff and rolled his eyes. “Sorry to sound like a broken record but, no, I’m not wearing new makeup. But, you know, thanks for informing me that I look like death warmed up?”  
“Isn’t that your intent?” The princely side cocked an eyebrow at him only to receive a deadly sneer in return. Logan didn’t join in on their antics which wasn’t uncommon, what was off putting though was the strange stony expression on his face as he refused to take his eyes off Virgil. His hands were clasped tightly around his back the way he usually did when he was feeling uncomfortable; Anxiety had figured that one out long ago from watching his interactions with the other two and their… illogical dilemmas.

Just as it looked like he was about to speak a door burst open, startling the trio. Roman made a shrill squeaking sound as he covered his chest with the magazine, whilst the gothic side spluttered and turned toward the sink so he could place his mug somewhere safe as he recovered from his near-drowning experience. The studious side on the other hand, merely raised his eyebrows, not so much as flinching at the sudden bang nor the curly-haired man panting in the doorway.  
“My pun senses were a Patt-ing!” He called, eyes gleaming almost as bright as his smile.  
“Told ya.”  
“Roman did it.” Logan nodded to him as if it was all he needed to prove his guilt. Patton’s head practically snapped towards him as the man in question gave a scoff that was a mix of betrayal and outrage.  
“Why you absolute sn-“ He never even finished his sentence before Patton was upon him, pulling him into a vice like hug as he unleashed a high pitched squealing noise and planted sloppy kisses on his cheeks.  
“I’m so proud of you kiddo! I always knew you could reach your highness potential, why, you’ll be taking the crown from me any day now. You don’t know how many knights I’ve been waiting for this! For my babies to become pun queens themselves, oh this is just punder-ful!” He babbled between kisses, evidently filled with pride at what his kiddo had supposedly accomplished.  
“Release me, you ravenous puff ball!” Roman demanded with a slight laugh that drained away what little authority he had. Virgil couldn’t stifle his giggling as he watched the two, mildly impressed at how Logan had easily avoided yet another longwinded chase around the house followed by a never-ending reem of puns. He was so absorbed in the scene that he didn’t even even noticed a pair of cold eyes were scanning him intently.


	3. Chapter 3

Logan was sat at the kitchen counter, the black ballpoint in his hand tapping rhythmically in time with the monotonous tick of the nearby clock. He couldn’t tell if this hindered or helped his thinking, either way he couldn’t seem to stop himself as he poured over the newspaper. The issue had been lifted from one of Thomas’ many memories, a footnote within his daily routine but to the side it was one of his few highlights. He enjoyed the articles that involved politics, economics or scientific studies but these were not the only things that intrigued him for he simply adored the puzzle section. Sudoku was easy enough as it dealt with number patterns which were, of course, his specialty. Then came word searches, these were merely child’s play; you were given a simple topic and merely had to select the corresponding words from a grid. It was all a matter of pattern identification, simple. Crosswords, on the other hand were slightly more… bothersome. Words and phrases, especially colloquialisms, tended to have multiple meanings that depended upon various factors such as who you were with, the topic of conversation, level of formality and so on. Thus, they were slightly harder to decipher, though not impossible and he still very much enjoyed them. Well, he usually did if it weren’t for this particular riddle that ran down for seven boxes:  
“Brushes life into all things”

Brushes most likely referred to a paintbrush, as a hairbrush or broom would be an unlikely fit due to not only the size of the words but also the function of both items, which had no correlation with any sort creative process. Meanwhile, life often referred to the state of sentience, meaning a certain level of cognitive processing was evident in the subject…. However, it could also be an adjective used to describe the levels of energy or vividness portrayed by the subject. Therefore, the answer naturally had to be some sort of artist or at least their work; it was just narrowing down who or what piece that was presenting a problem. As the logical side poured through the database that was his mind, his eyes scanned back and forth across the words, not really absorbing them as he did his best to find an appropriate fit. Every now and then he would raise an eyebrow at a potential answer, only to find himself shaking his head in dismissal as the word failed to meet the required criteria. Perhaps brushes was referring to the verb “to brush against”, but how would that fit the riddle in any appropriate form? This was a public paper after all. Whilst he continued to toy with the semantics of each word, he felt a presence manifest behind him yet didn’t stop to turn around. The energy was warm, almost like sunlight and brought forth the images of daisies as well as the lingering scent of vanilla pods.

“Heya Lolo!” Patton chimed as his feet hit the floor. No matter how much the logical side had prepared himself, he still flinched at the sudden sound and silently wished his friend wasn’t so boisterous. He huffed at the associations that now clouded his mind and stopped his train of thought dead in its tracks. “Do you how do?”  
Instead of replying, he merely held up an index finger to halt any form of further small talk. He couldn’t afford any more distractions, not when he was so close. The fatherly side was quite used to this and instead of attempting to coax the other into further conversation, he merely made his way to the kitchen, glancing at the paper as he went. Once Patton could see his face, he gave a soft smile as he took in the creasing of Logan’s brow and the steely look of determination that swam in his eyes whenever he was presented with a challenge. He always loved how the intellectual could become so absorbed in his work, it almost made him forgive his rudeness. Softly sighing to himself, he set about his own task, digging through the kitchen cupboards to pull out pots and pans that were needed to prepare for lunch. As he reached into the fridge to gather the ingredients his companion gave an annoyed sound that was caught somewhere between a huff and a groan.  
“Patton, could you please keep it down? I’m… in the middle of something.” Logic implored, the exasperated edge in his voice ebbing away with each word.  
“I’m sorry kiddo but everyone’s gotta eat at some point, even you.” He replied in a gentle yet firm tone. Turning around, he could see that Logan had abandoned his pen to one side, allowing him to wearily rub his eyes, obviously growing frustrated at his predicament.  
“That’s not what I meant… You were humming.”  
“I was?”  
“Yes, rather loudly.” He replied with a sigh, leaning back in his chair as he stared at him with a neutral expression.  
“Well, I humbly apologise.” Patton chuckled, laying down his things with a glowing smile.  
“I’m going to ignore that. Regardless, it isn’t your fault I just…” Logan couldn’t seem to finish the sentence, instead allowing a troubled hum to escape his own lips as he practically glared holes through the paper.  
“Careful Lolo, if the wind changes you’ll be stuck with that face.” The polo clad man mused, making his way around the table so that he could wrap his arms comfortingly around the other’s shoulders. He peered down at the paper and raised an eyebrow of slight interest as Lo sighed once more, leaning back into the hug unknowingly. He loved it when that happened.  
“I doubt that would be an issue, my expression rarely changes anyway.” He mused, looking off into the distance at nothing in particular.  
“Which one are you stuck on?”  
“Here, seven down.” He picked up the paper and indicated at the question with an almost accusatory jab of his finger. “I have been through every artist I can think of yet none of them fit, I tried other words but they don’t correspond with the surrounding answers. Perhaps this is some sort of misprint?”  
Patton hummed thoughtfully, cocking his head ever so slightly. “Have you tried Raphael?” He responded after a drawn-out pause. The logical man seemed to stiffen under his touch. “Lo?”  
Suddenly, he slammed the paper down and scribbled the word inside the boxes, breathing hard. “I can’t believe it.” He kept muttering, pulling out of the hug so he could hunch over his long-awaited answer. “How on earth did you-“  
Pat merely shrugged. “Brushes made me think of wings, you know, like feathery one’s angels have? That made the life bit make sense as the angel Raphael is known as a healer.”  
Logan rounded on him, practically gawping so much that he had to unsuccessfully stifle a chuckle. “You… you didn’t mean Raffaello Santi, the uh, renaissance painter?” He elaborated after being given a slightly lost look.  
“I mean… if it fits?” He gave a final shrug before smiling, moving away from the seats and back around to the kitchen counter where his provisions still lay.

As he set to work, Logan simply stared at the paper dumbfounded. As time passed, a comfortable silence enveloped the two like a blanket, interrupted only by the sound of chopping of vegetables and the odd glance that he threw the fatherly figure. He would never admit it, but now and again the corners of his mouth twitched upwards upon seeing him, tempting him to ask the other for help with the rest of the questions despite not needing it. Once the pots were set to boil, he had almost completed his puzzle when he felt yet another presence. This time, the distinct taste of Parma violets danced across his tongue as the all too real tingle of windchimes in his ears rouse him from his concentration. “Virgil is about to come downstairs.” He announced as the footsteps drew closer. Patton looked up from the stove with a beaming grin as the aforementioned side entered the room. “Heya kiddo! You’re just in time, the soup is almost done, veg you can’t guess what it is?” He chimed merrily. But the hoodie clad young man didn’t respond, instead he gave a shrug and slunk his way to the kitchen sink.  
In order to save his feelings, Logan pipped up “Vegetable?”  
“I carrot believe you guessed it on your first go.” He pulled a fake pout so that the pun would stick, causing the spectacled man to groan involuntarily. Virgil gave no comment, not even a chuckle as he filled up a glass of water and brought it slowly to his lips. This behaviour was unusual, despite his efforts to hide it Logan knew that the dark alternate at least smirked every time the other told a joke and Pat seemed to sense this too. A few slow seconds ticked by before anyone spoke.  
“So Virge, how are you feeling today?” Patton prompted ever so gently as he stirred the pot. Judging by the lack of response, Logic figured that he had shrugged at the question once again.  
He set down the paper and stared directly at the back of his friend’s head. “Virgil?” His tone was cold, steady but he refrained from being overly demanding.  
After a long, tense sip of water the two awaited his answer.

“I’m fine.” Virge croaked quietly, his voice gravely and squeaking in strange places. Patton dropped his spoon in the soup, solidifying on the spot.  
Logan, on the other hand, was already out of his seat and striding his way across to him. “I need you to tell me all of your symptoms. Have you been feeling dizzy lately? Nauseous? Have you developed a cough? Nasal blockages?” The questions came out like rapid fire as he gently placed his hands on Virgil’s throat, feeling for his glands. “You definitely have a temperature… How has you digestion-“  
“Logan, Logan buddy… Just relax.” The goth forced a wheezing laugh, holding up his hands to make the other back off. “It’s fine, just a little cold.”  
“We don’t get colds Virgil.” He shot back, making the other flinch as he drew his hands away from his neck. “Thomas gets colds and then that affects us, we do not develop sicknesses on our own.”  
“Well maybe it just hasn’t happened before? Ever think about that?” He arched an eyebrow, cloudy grey eyes refusing to break contact with the swirling pools of sapphire that somehow managed to freeze everyone else out. The once carefree atmosphere grew more and more uncomfortable as the silent battle played out before them, neither one seemed willing to back down; finally, Patton stepped in, laying a delicate hand on both their chests and gently widening the distance between the two.  
“Okay guys, let’s not get feisty over this.” He soothed, looking between the two with concern spreading plain as day across his face. Weaving his way into the gap, he turned to his dark strange son. “Now Virgil, how long has things been like this?”  
For a second, he looked ready to protest, to huff and storm away like he used to do. Now, however, when he looked into Morality’s eyes he couldn’t seem to find the strength to do so. “I dunno… a few days maybe? A week?” Even his whispers came out broken and thick with weariness.  
“Oh baby, why didn’t you say anything sooner?” Pat cooed, instinctively pulling him into a hug as the other sneered at the thought. Logan watched the scene with his brow still furrowed, unwilling to let Anxiety off the hook. “Well, if this really is just a cold all we need to do is get you some good old fashioned R and R. Come on, you go lay down on the sofa and I’ll get you some blankets, okay? We’ll stick on a dvd while we eat then you can have a nice long nap.”  
“Come on Pat, that’s not necessary-“  
“Consider it punishment for not alerting us sooner.” Lo cut him off, readjusting his glasses whilst the fatherly figure sent him a deadly warning glare. “I will serve lunch and summon Roman.”  
“Good it’s settled!”


End file.
